


Be Thou My Vision

by BobbySinger (wylf_storm)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Fluff, Hymns, M/M, MOL Bunker, Music, Post Season 8, fallen!cas, in which Cas plays the piano, like a lot of fluff, sleeping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-21
Updated: 2013-09-21
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylf_storm/pseuds/BobbySinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a habit of checking on Sam and Cas in their rooms before he goes to bed, but Cas is never where he's supposed to be. When Dean wakes up in the middle of the night and Cas isn't in his room, Dean goes to find him in the bunker.<br/>//Shameless fluff//</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Thou My Vision

**Author's Note:**

> It started out as a drabble but kind of escalated really quickly from there, I'll just leave it up to you.

Dean sat bolt upright in his bed, the duvet slipping off his chest and bunching at his waist. He searched for the thing that had woken him, but came up empty. Silence pervaded through the bunker.

Too alert to even think of sleeping again, he slipped out of bed in his sweatpants and headed for the kitchen. It was a quarter past one and he was awake for no reason. Just his luck.

He padded quietly through the bunker, his bare feet making small sticking sounds on the tiled floor of the kitchen. He grabbed himself a glass of water and leaned against the counter.

It’d been three weeks since Castiel had showed up on their doorstep looking like death warmed up. Dean didn’t say anything, just pulled him into a hug right there in the doorway and held him close. Cas’s hair was ruffled even more than usual, his clothes torn and dusty and he smelled like he’d been living on the streets. Dean had spent the week before he showed frantically pacing and praying, spending hours on end in the impala just driving and calling Cas’s phone, then calling again when it always went to voicemail.

“Cas, buddy, you’re alive,” He said quietly against the collar of his trenchcoat. Cas patted him weakly on the back, and when Dean finally let him go he had stumbled a bit until Dean had put his arm around his shoulders and led him into the bunker to wash him.

Castiel objected to being washed, insisting that he already knew, but Dean made him sit in the tub while he scrubbed his back and shoulders, his excuse being that Cas couldn’t reach there. He really wanted to make sure that Cas wasn’t some demon hallucination, but from the way he relaxed into Dean's hand on his back, Dean was pretty sure he wasn't. He couldn’t quite believe that Cas was there in front of him.

Dean had winced when he saw that the former Angel’s back was covered in small scratches and bruises.

“You been in the wars, Cas.” He’d said absently, gently moving the cloth over his abused skin.

“Falling isn’t the most risk-free experience there is.” Cas deadpanned, and Dean instantly regretted bringing it up.

“You were right. You can finish washing yourself.” He left Cas alone with the mildest soap they had in the bunker to wash the rest of his body. When he came out, hair damp and wrapped in a towel, Dean fed him, handed him a bottle of water and a stack of his own clothes for Cas to wear and then led him to the spare room next to his own. It was Cas’s room now.

Dean wasn’t entirely convinced that Cas was as fine as he made out to be. At first he had insisted that he needed to go and find his brothers and sisters, but both Winchesters told him that nothing of the sort was going to happen. Sam was still hospital-grade sick from whatever mojo had gone down with the final trial and Dean wasn’t letting Cas out of his sight. They managed to convince him that his siblings would do fine on their own. They were friggin’ Angels after all, they might have a few etiquette slip ups but they’d be fine on their own.

Cas had then spent his time flitting from room to room in the bunker, occasionally making conversation but being generally quieter than usual, which was pretty damn quiet. Dean admitted that it threw him off a bit, what with his little brother wrapped in blankets and a silent ex-Angel wandering around, he felt like he was all by himself.

He’d taken to checking that everyone was in their beds before he could lie down himself, meaning he was always the last to go to sleep. Sam was always where he was supposed to be after taking things down several pegs after the run in with Abaddon, but Cas was wherever he wanted to be. Dean found him on the roof of the bunker a lot, just sitting there and looking up at the sky. Other times he would be lying on his back in the grass leading up to the woods behind the bunker, watching the fireflies in the evening light and just _listening._ Dean would stand nearby, glad that Cas could no longer hear as acutely but as hard as he might try, Castiel somehow _knew_ he was there.

“Hello Dean.” He said one night when Dean was leaning against a tree, watching Cas watching the world. He startled a bit, sure that he had been stealthy.

“Uh, hey Cas. You going to come inside? It’s gettin’ dark.” He shoved off the tree and crouched down next to Cas lying spread-eagled on his back. “Come on man, you’re going to get cold. Come inside.”

“Do you think they’re alive?”

Dean blinked. “Who?”

Cas turned his head in the grass to fix Dean with his blue eyed stare. “My siblings. Do you think they’re alive?”

Dean hadn’t known what to say. He knew that there were probably a fair number of the fallen that had perished, dropped right into oceans, things like that; he also knew that Cas knew it. That didn’t stop him from hoping, even though he knew Sam was convinced that he’d given up long ago.

“Yeah, yeah I do, Cas. You’re alive. You came back to us, and if your bros and sisters are anything like you they’ll do fine.”

He had extended a hand and helped Cas to his feet then, taking a little too long to let his hand go when Cas was on his own two feet. Dean remembered clearly how his wide blue eyes had clashed horribly with the red plaid shirt of Dean’s he was wearing.

Dean had made sure that Cas got into bed that night and had ended up making a habit of it, seeking him out when he wasn’t in his bed at night and making sure he got into it.

Dean sighed at the memory and set his cup down on the counter with a light clunk. He had already made sure that both Sam and Castiel were safe in their rooms before he went to bed, but after waking so suddenly he figured he may as well check on his two charges again, just to ease his paranoia. From experience, waking suddenly in the night was never for a good reason.

Dean left the kitchen and slipped down the hallway towards Sam’s room. It was in the opposite direction to Cas’s and his own, as when they first found the Men of Letters’ bunker he and Sam had opted for rooms on separate sides of the T junction corridor of the living quarter.

He carefully eased the door of Sam’s room open even though there was no light in the hall, as it was the middle of the night and Dean had no real reason to turn one on. He was used to finding his way in the dark.

The shape of Sam’s tall figure was visible from the glow of his clock, the fabric of the quilt covering him rising and falling evenly with his steady breaths. Reassured, Dean closed his door again, turned on his heel and made his way down the hall past his own room to Cas’s.

The door was slightly ajar and the interior of the room dark. Dean frowned a little. _The fuck?_ He was certain that the door was properly closed when he did his rounds before going to bed. He carefully pushed the door open and peered in.

No Cas.

Dean hastily backtracked to his room and picked a knife from the arsenal on his wall before stepping back into the hall and approaching the doorway to Cas’s room with extra caution. He pushed the door open all the way so that it lay flat against the wall with nothing behind it before entering the room itself and flicking the light on.

Nothing.

No monster, but no Cas either.

Dean lowered the blade and looked around the ex-Angel’s space. He knew that Cas didn’t have a lot on him, so he and Sam had gone for a drive and picked up Cas some clothes of his own. The trenchcoat hung on the hook on the wall, the only permanent thing that Castiel had added to the room. His bedding was rumpled like he had been in his bed at some point, but from the extent of it, he had tossed for a while before getting out. Dean was certain that Cas hadn’t left the bunker itself: His trenchcoat was still in the room and his shoes were placed neatly outside of his closet. He was still in the bunker then, but the question remained _where?_

Dean kept the knife with him when he walked in the lounge to look in the other parts of the bunker. Nothing was out of place, and since there was nothing suspicious about Cas’s room and all their many wards were still in place, Dean left it on a coffee table on his way past. He stopped at the top of the staircase, wondering whether to go up – Cas did like the roof after all – or down – the library proper was down there and he’d been doing a lot of reading since he lost his wings – when he heard a distant melody playing. It was quiet but sure, and from what Dean knew of music, it was coming from a piano.

He shrugged. There were still a lot of rooms they hadn’t got to searching in the bunker. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a piano in one of them.

Following the sound upstairs and down a short corridor he traced the music back to it’s source: Castiel.

Dean cautiously leaned against the doorframe to what could only be the music room, not wanting to interrupt the dark-haired human. He was playing on a black baby grand piano and singing in a low voice, not loud enough to carry but loud enough for Dean to hear. As he had walked, Dean had realized why the tune was so familiar to him too. It was ‘Be Thou My Vision’, an old hymn that Mary had sometimes hummed around the house, and that through a couple of more religious schools, he had gotten to know rather well.

Cas didn’t acknowledge him and Dean supposed that since there were no trees or grasses to give him away, Cas simply hadn’t noticed he was there, absorbed as he was in the ivories.

His fingers skimmed the keyboard with almost loving tenderness, and each note he played was deliberate and sure. The accompaniment of Castiel’s gravelly bass voice was slightly odd but pleasant all the same.

Dean nodded his head in time with the old hymn as Cas sang the verses. He reached what Dean recognized as the end, but continued playing and sang another verse that Dean was unfamiliar with.

“ _Be thou my wings and my strength for the war,_

_Be thou compassion that blood from me tore,_

_Thou my everlasting and mine truest friend,_

_Stay with me here until the very end.”_

The last few notes faded into the silence of the night and Dean remained quiet in the doorway, unwilling to startle Cas.

“Hello Dean. Did you like it?”  Cas turned on the piano stool to face him, face calm. _He knew,_ Dean was secretly annoyed. He thought he might have been able to sneak up on his now-human friend at least once, but obviously not.

“It was great, Cas. I didn’t know you played the piano?” Dean said, pushing off the door frame and walking to stand nearer to the keyboard.

“A long time ago, I learnt how. Much like I have learnt how to use a cell phone. There were others in Heaven with such abilities, many liked music as a recreational activity.” Castiel said, running his fingers lightly over the keys once more.

“I didn’t know you guys _got_ free time… I didn’t know that you and your dad were like that either, the whole ‘be thou my wings’ deal…”

The corner of Cas’s mouth twitched up. “The first five verses are traditional, but the last one had some… poetic license exercised on it. It’s not about God, if that’s what you mean.”

“It thought all the religious yodels were about the big guy?”

“They usually are. The verse was one of mine… it’s about you. I heard you humming along to the third verse.” Cas admitted looking up at him. His eyes were sincere and the smile still played cautiously around his lips.

“You… that was for me?” Dean looked down at his feet against the carpet, noticing that Cas was also bare footed. “I didn’t know I meant that much to you.”

Castiel stood up from the piano stool and stepped up to Dean, very much in his personal space. “You mean that, and so much more.”

Dean felt shy lips press against his own, and pressed back against them to let them know that it was okay, that he _wanted_ this. It was brief, but Cas remained close to him.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. I wish I could do more.” He murmured against Dean’s cheek, as Dean snaked a hand around his waist to hold him.

“Cas, it’s fine. You’ve done more than enough for me, and for Sam. It’s time enough we did something for you.” Dean turned his head, searching for the tender curve of that mouth again so he could kiss it. He had no trouble with that, as one of Cas’s hands cupped the back of his neck, stroking the short hair at the base of his skull.

Dean broke away and caught one of Cas’s hands in his own, kissing his knuckles. “Come on, let’s get you back into bed.” Dean pressed his lips to the pad of Cas’s thumb. “I thought you’d left,” He whispered.

There was hurt in Castiel’s eyes as he reached out to cup Dean’s cheek. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t leave you like I’ve done in the past. I thought I would when I arrived here, but you cleaned me up and took care of me. You made me a place to live here, Dean. My home is with you now… I don’t think I could leave if I tried.”

Dean smiled at him and Cas kissed his smile, learning the feel of it under his own mouth.

Dean kept their hands held together as they left the room, Cas switching off the light behind them as they padded down the stairs together and back to Cas’s room. Cas perched on the edge of his bed for a moment before sliding underneath the sheets and comforter again. “Goodnight, Dean.” He said as Dean switched off his light and made his way back to his own room.

He was much more relaxed now, and after removing his sweatpants and getting between his sheets, he felt he was more than ready to go back to sleep. He was hovering around the edges of sleep when he heard his doorlatch click as it was opened. The silhouette of a figure with ruffled hair was standing in the doorway.

“Close the door behind you, Cas.”

Castiel did as he was instructed before moving over to stand uncertainly next to Dean’s bed.

“Dean, can I-“ but Dean was already moving over a little in his queen bed to make space.

“Get in, Cas. I don’t mind at all.”

The bed dipped under the new weight as Castiel pulled the blanket up over himself and then shuffled closer to Dean so that his back was pressed against Dean’s chest.

Dean slung an arm over Cas’s hips and planted a light kiss on the back of his neck, nosing at his hair.

“We can get a bigger bed in your room if you want, Cas.” He murmured.

“I don’t see any reason why you should. There’s a perfectly good one here.” Cas replied, and felt Dean’s laughter brush across his shoulderblades.

“You’re right. Feel free to come use it any time.” Dean kissed the back of his neck again for good measure, breathing in Cas’s scent before settling down more comfortably.

“Goodnight, Dean.” Cas mumbled, sounding tired, but turned his head to plant a kiss against Dean’s forehead despite the effort it took him.

“G’night Cas.” Dean replied, a content smile on his lips.

 

 

When Sam found them like that in the morning, he said nothing about it, nor about the way Dean held Cas’s hand under the table at breakfast. He thought they might have gotten to this point sooner, what with Cas wearing Dean’s clothes and all, but was glad they had found each other properly at last. What he didn’t understand was Dean’s sudden interest in traditional music.

“Why do you keep humming ‘Be Thou My Vision’?”

He didn’t miss the look that passed between the two before Dean started laughing.


End file.
